Wild Horses
by ScarlettWoman710
Summary: It's been twenty-five years since Violet kissed Tate goodbye, ten years since she first thought about forgiving him, and five since she secretly did. A birthday gift fic for jandjsalmon!


**Title: **Wild Horses

**Author: **ScarlettWoman710

**Summary: **It's been twenty-five years since Violet kissed Tate goodbye, ten years since she first thought about forgiving him, and five since she secretly did. A birthday gift fic for **jandjsalmon!**

**Warnings/Triggers: **Mild language

**A/N: **So I'm 45 minutes early (my time) but as I'll be gone much of tomorrow, I've got no choice but to publish a bit early. If fics were food, this would be a cupcake. Not just a cupcake, but a white angel food cupcake with a strawberry cream center, topped with swirls of pink frosting and sprinkles. It's short and sweet and fluffy as hell, and it's the only appropriate birthday gift for a beta, a friend, an AHS mod and all-around great person like our Salmon. Happy happy, happiest birthday to you. I hope it's a great one. The title of this comes from the Rolling Stones song of the same name, which I never realized is TOTALLY a Violet and Tate song. Oh, and a super big thank-you to ohyellowbird for betaing this for me!

* * *

Another year. Another Halloween.

Violet stretches her legs forward, curling her bare toes around the bottom stair of the porch. The weather was warm for October. All around L.A., wannabe socialites and teenyboppers were praising the heatwave that would allow them to wear skimpy costumes without the goosebumps. The high temperatures have Violet anticipating a parade of sixteen year-old sexed up hooker wannabes traipsing through the lawn of Murder House to what once was the home of Constance Langdon and is currently home to a pair of teenaged boys with absentee parents.

Violet snickers and the thought of the kegger that will, based on what she's heard the boys planning, be thrown in Constance's old living room. She'd be rolling in her grave if she knew what her former lair was being used for tonight. That is, if she's even dead. It's been twenty-five years since Violet died, twenty years since Michael murdered his baby-sitter, and fifteen years since the mounting body count surrounding her new perfect blonde-haired blue-eyed boy started to attract too much heat, leading to their escape in the middle of the night.

Twenty-five years since Violet kissed Tate goodbye.

Ten years since she first thought about forgiving him.

Five since she secretly did.

And one very, very long year that she's spent contemplating returning to his arms, his lips, his body.

She wants him. She needs him. But going back to him is tantamount to a proposal, it's forever. It's for life, or limbo. And sorry, but she wants it to be epic. She wants their reunion to be the stuff that fairy tales are made of. Yeah it's corny, and yeah, it's fucking girly as shit, but she's not going to get a big nuptial gala at a ballroom or get hitched like hipsters in a farmhouse or even get an exchange of vows in front of a judge. This is as close to a wedding as she's going to get, this agreement to go back to her first and only love, and excuse her if she wants it to be special.

Chad and Hayden meander out the door and onto the porch, each swirling glasses of cheap wine. The two have become friends, against all odds. In fact, just about everyone in Murder House is getting along these days - with the exception of Hayden and Vivien, and Tate and her parents. On a long enough timeline, the hate, the drama, the frustration just gets too exhausting. It fizzles out. The constant cycle of destruction just isn't worth it anymore.

"Hey Vi, got any cigarettes?" Hayden asks, stretching, feline-like across the thick banister.

"All out," she sighs, pushing her hair out of her eyes. "But it's Halloween, you can go and get some more."

"Oh, we will pumpkin, don't you worry about that, " Chad says, settling in next to her. "We're going shopping in a few. Want to come?"

Violet shrugs. "Yeah. I've got nothing better to do, I guess."

Hayden shakes her head. "I've got nothing better to do," she mimics. "Vi, you're _young._ You've got that hot little body for _life._ God, go out and work it a little bit, why don't you?"

She shrugs again and starts picking layers of nail polish off her toes. Chad smirks and puts his arm around her. "Come off it, Hayden. You know she's only got eyes for one."

Hayden snickers. "Ah. Of course. Lord Byron, the tearful poet laureate of the Murder House basement."

Violet wiggles out from under Chad's arm. "If you guys are done making fun of me," she snaps, turning and walking back into the house, "I'm going inside to get ready for the day. I've got money to steal, cigarettes to buy, and brooding to do." Without another word, she's gone, not bothering to take the effort to actually walk up the stairs and simply disappearing instead.

Hayden exhales, looking at the spot where Violet used to be. "We have _got_ to do something about this," she says, plopping down beside Chad. "Seriously, their constant mooning about is fucking _depressing._"

"Killing your buzz?" Chad teases, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"Damn straight. I'll be fucking Travis, so close, and then, _bam._ One of the two of them starts fucking _sobbing_. It's completely throwing me off my game."

Chad takes a sip of his wine. "Well, what do you suggest we do about it?"

Hayden reclines on the porch before sitting up. "Actually, I might have an idea," she says mischievously. "How would you feel about having a little company tonight?"

Chad's mouth stretches into a slow, conspiratorial smile. "You don't mean... "

Hayden nods, mirroring his enthusiasm. "I do."

Chad grins. "You're crazy," he says, shaking his head. "But I'm also bored, so I guess I'm game. I'm taking the girl, though. Spending my one day of freedom per year with my murderer doesn't sound like a good time."

"Perfect. I'll take Little Lord Fauntleroy, you take Suicide Sally. I'll meet you at midnight." She pulls herself up and starts to head in the house before turning back to look at Chad. "And hey," she says gently. "Pretty her up real good, okay?"

Chad's tempted to make a snarky comment but softens when he sees Hayden's earnest expression It's not often that there's anything to be excited about here. "I'll do my part," he says firmly. "She deserves it. You do your part, I'll handle mine."

And then, abruptly, both ghosts are gone, leaving the porch empty once more.

* * *

"Get up."

Violet rolls over from her spot on the bed. "I'm taking a pre-Halloween nap," she grumbles, nuzzling back into her pillow.

"You'll sleep when you're dead," Chad cracks. "Oh wait, it's a little late for that."

Violet heaves a huge sigh and sits up. "In the interest of getting you out of here, why don't you just tell me what you want?" she grumps, heels pressed against her eyes.

"You," Chad says simply. "I want you. Come on, we've got a long day ahead of us. Let's go."

* * *

An hour later, Violet's in a dressing room, the floor around her feet littered with layers of lace, glitter, and crinoline.

"Chad, none of these fucking dresses are _me_," she huffs, kicking off the most recently discarded from the pile. "Seriously, you've known me for twenty-five goddamn years. Do I really seem like the pink pretty princess type to you?"

"Obviously not, but these are _costumes_, Violet. The fact that they're not something you'd usually wear is kind of the point."

Chad had refused to answer any of her questions after dragging her to a costume shop on Hollywood Boulevard. She had no idea what was going on - and normally, she'd be throwing a fit at this point - but she's bored, she's lonely, and spending a few hours being forced into layers of girly shit is better than trick-or-treating with her parents. "Come on," she wheedles him, stripped down to her bra and panties again. "There's a ton of fucking costumes in there. There's got to be one that doesn't involve anything pink or flowered or glittery. I just want something that looks like _me, _y'know?"

Chad shakes his head. "And here I was trying to dress you up like you're evil twin," he sighs, before his eyes light back up. "Holy shit," he whispers, sitting up. "Holy _shit. _Violet, don't move. I'll be right back."

Violet panics at the wild look in his eyes. "Chad, what are you thinking? _Chad?" _She peeks her head through the curtain. "CHAD! Get back here!"

He's gone long enough that she thinks maybe he's met some slutty gay dude in the racks of material. She starts to pull her clothes back on when his voice carries through the curtain.

"Violet? Close your eyes!"

"Why?"

"Because I want it to be a fucking _surprise, _damnit! Come on, just close your eyes."

Violet groans defeatedly and kicks off the skirt she'd been pulling up. "Fine, they're closed," she says, crinkling her eyes shut. "But I swear, if I open them and I'm wearing anything bedazzled, I am so fucking out of here."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Chad murmurs, concentrating on lifting a heavy, fitted costume over her head. It's smooth against her skin, and short, leaving her bare legs exposed. She can feel something tickling her back and bustline.

"Are those fucking _feathers?" _she asks wearily.

"Shhh," he hushes her. "I'm trying to lace you up here, and it's taking all my concentration." She feels him pull ribbons through a corset tight enough to knock the wind out of her for a moment before she can regain her breath. "Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?" she chokes, coughing and sputtering and trying to force her lungs back into working order.

"No, I'm trying to highlight your waist. You've got a fucking figure like a goddamn prima ballerina and it's absolutely _wasted _under those potato sacks you call clothing. If I get to dress you, you're gonna be damn sure you don't look like somebody's grandmother." He gives one last enthusiastic tug on the corset and spins her around so that she's facing the mirror. "Okay. Open your eyes."

She does, and for a moment all she can do is blink. Her mouth opens to form words and then abruptly snaps shut again.

"Chad, I... " she murmurs, and then falls silent again, caught up in her own reflection.

"You don't have to say anything. I already know."

She doesn't look like herself. She doesn't look like a fucking princess or malibu barbie or the Halloween whore version of Little Bo Peep either. She... she looks like nothing she's ever seen before.

She's laced into a black dress, if it can even be called a dress. It's more like a ballerina's costume, layers of black tulle sprinkled with a hint of shimmer, falling to an inch above her knees. The corset she's wearing is black silk, shining against her pale skin. And everywhere, covering the corset and the layers of tulle, are black feathers.

She looks otherworldly. Strong. Powerful.

Beautiful.

And sexy. Very, very sexy.

Her solid A cup looks more like a B, thanks to the corset. And Chad's right, her waist is tiny. It looks fucking miniscule in this getup.

"You're the black swan," Chad says softly. "From Swan Lake."

"I'm..."

"Gorgeous," Chad supplies. "You're fucking gorgeous, Violet. And you've earned a Halloween out on the town. You've earned a lot more than that, but this is what I can give you."

Her no bullshit bravado has been stripped away and for a moment she's like any other girl as she pirouettes in the mirror, a dopey grin stretched across her face. "So where are we going?" she asks, eyes on her skirt as she twirls again, making it flare out in a circle around her.

"To a club," Chad says. "It's a masquerade ball."

"That sounds a little -"

"Gay?" Chad finishes. "It should. We're going to a gay club." He reaches in front of her and places a mask over her eyes and if she was in love with the costume before, she's absolutely enraptured now, thanks to the black glitter and feathers decorating her eyes. She smiles. "I was going to say stupid, not gay, but whatever," she says. "It doesn't normally seem like something I'd be into."

"Well, for tonight, let's break the mold," Chad smiles. "It's Halloween, Vi. Everybody gets to be somebody else on Halloween."

* * *

The club Chad and Hayden drag her to is so perfectly stereotypically gay in all the right ways, from the silver sparkly speedos and angel wings the bartenders are all wearing, to the glitter raining from the ceiling to the cliched theme of the rager - Heaven On Earth. Appropriate for a bar that contains a handful of ghosts for whom this party is the closest to the pearly gates they're ever gonna get. Chad's dolled up like a superhero - a trend that, like the the Murder House, refuses to die - and Hayden's wearing a few scraps of latex that could possibly pass for a fireman's costume. She's finding no shortage of straight and bi boys to flirt with in the club. Any L.A. dude worth his salt knows that one of the easiest places to pick up hot girls is a gay Halloween party.

Euphoria, freedom, and champagne are thrumming through Violet's veins, a cocktail that has her head swirling and spinning as the beats pounding through the speakers push and pull her body in different directions. She feels like a fucking princess, hair pinned up and makeup applied by Chad's and Hayden's expert hands. She's got on a pair of heels at least four inches higher than anything she'd normally ever wear, but instead of making her feel stupid they make her feel like an Amazonian goddess. It takes her a minute to place the emotion she's feeling before she realizes what it is.

It's happiness.

And it's almost instantly replaced by a good dose of wistfulness, because as pretty as some of the boys gyrating around Hayden are, there's only one that she wants, and he isn't here.

Chad catches the slight droop of her expression and slips an arm around her. "What's wrong?" he shouts, leaning over and catching her face in his hand. Hayden stops grinding on the guy she's dancing with and leans in closer to hear Violet's response.

"Nothing," she reassures them, forcing a smile on her face. "I just... I don't know. I was thinking about Tate."

Chad's brow quirks up in surprise. "Have you forgiven the little psycho?" he asks, glancing at Hayden, who smiles knowingly.

Violet huffs out a small laugh. "I forgave him a long time ago," she says, the edge of sadness creeping into her voice. "I just haven't gone back to him yet."

"Why?"

She shrugs. She knows she's sharing way more than she ever would, but she blames the booze and Chad and Hayden's friendly attitude. And since she's come this far, she might as well go a little further. "I know it's fucking stupid, but I... " she ducks her head bashfully. "I wanted it to be special," she says softly, as close to a whisper as the thumping bass will allow.

Hayden gestures to the club around them and the dress Violet's wearing. "I'd say tonight's pretty special," he says, nodding at Hayden, who makes a weird moton behind her back.

Violet nods, smiling. "Yeah, it is," she agrees. "I just wish he was here."

"I'll always be here, if that's what you want," a voice says then, softly in her ear.

She spins around and is met with Tate's eyes, blacker than black, peering at her through an even darker mask.

"Tate," she whispers, half disbelieving, as his hands slowly drift to her waist.

"And that's our cue to leave," Hayden stage whispers, tugging on Chad's sleeve and disappearing into the crowd.

Violet is vaguely aware that her fellow ghosts have left, but her focus is entirely drawn to the man in front of her, because there's way more man than boy in Tate as he stands before her, dressed up in a tailored black tux.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, hypnotized by his eyes and the love bleeding from their depths.

His lips curl into a small smile. "Hayden found me today," he explains, tugging her closer. "She dressed me up, told me to come here. I wouldn't have listened, but she said it was for you," he says apologetically. "And... there's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Violet."

Tears spring to her eyes. "Tate, I -"

She's cut off from by the deep voice of the DJ, blaring out over the crowd. "We're going to play something for all you young lovers out there," he announces, giving them all an exaggerated wink. "Find somebody special and hold them close."

The crowd alternately jeers and grumbles at the DJ, but pairs off and falls together as the music starts playing softly in the speakers.

* * *

_Childhood living is easy to do  
__The things you wanted I bought them for you  
__Graceless lady, you know who I am  
__You know I can't let you slide through my hands  
__Wild horses couldn't drag me away  
__Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away_

* * *

Her arms wrap around his shoulders, her hands threading through the hair at the back of his neck. "I'm so, so glad you're here," she whispers into the space between their mouths as his hands slide down her hips to tug her closer still, because he knows, as she does, that any space between them is too much.

"Me too."

"I love you, Tate."

Her shock at her admission is only outweighed by his own. His expression falls further into disbelief as she smiles softly and they both realize that she means it.

"I love you too, Violet," he says reverently. "I love you so fucking much."

* * *

_I watched you suffer a dull aching pain  
__Now you decided to show me the same  
__No sweeping exits or off stage lines  
__Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind  
__Wild horses, couldn't drag me away  
__Wild wild horses couldn't drag me away_

* * *

"I promise I'll be better this time," he vows, running his warm hands up and down her spine.

"I promise I'll listen," she swears, nuzzling into his neck. "Even if I don't like what it is you have to say."

"I promise I'll be honest. I promise I won't do anything that will make you want to leave, not ever."

"I promise I'll never leave you again, even if you do."

She can feel his smile against her hair. "I promise to love you," he says gently, pulling away slightly to cup her face in his hand.

"I promise to love you," she repeats as a tear slips down her cheek. "I promise to love you _forever."_

* * *

_I know I've dreamed you, a sin and a lie  
__I have my freedom but I don't have much time  
__Faith has been broken tears must be cried  
__Let's do some living after we die  
__Wild horses, couldn't drag me away  
__Wild wild horses we'll ride them someday  
__Wild horses, couldn't drag me away  
__Wild wild horses we'll ride them someday_

* * *

His breath hitches at her words and any semblance of restraint is gone as he leans forward and crashes his lips against hers. And there, in that embrace, every wound between them is healed. Their hearts are stitched back together, their lives cemented together by the promises made and sealed with a kiss under strobe lights and falling glitter as couples sway in the dark beside them.

She reaches up to untie the ribbons holding the mask to his face. "I want to see you," she says softly, letting the plastic fall to the floor. He grins at her and does the same, tucking her feathered mask into his pocket. "You're so fucking beautiful," he says, leaning in to kiss her again.

"So are you," she mumbles against his lips, smiling slightly as his chest rumbles with laughter.

They're pulled out of their embrace by the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat beside them. When they surface from the hold each has on the other, Hayden and Chad are there, grinning like the Halloween jack-o-lanterns that decorate the porch back home.

"Alright you fucking lovebirds," Hayden teases, grinning widely. "You've got six hours before sunrise, and I don't think you want to spend anymore of it here."

"Yeah, if you plan on fucking in the bathroom, you're going to have competition in a place like this," Chad says slyly, pressing a flat key card into Violet's hand. "You've got a room at The Standard."

Violet and Tate exchange glances. "Are you serious?" she asks, squeezing his hand.

"As a heart attack," Hayden says. With a knowing wink at the pair, she pulls Chad away again, leaving Violet and Tate alone.

"I can't believe they did that," she says softly, turning the key card over in her hand.

"Me neither."

"Kind of presumptuous."

"Definitely."

She pauses before turning back to him. "But... we're still going to go, right?"

His face breaks into an enthusiastic grin. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he says, leaning in to press a quick kiss against her lips before practically dragging her across the dance floor and out the door. "Taxi!" he shouts, pulling her to the curb and gently setting her inside the cab that pulls up alongside them.

A thousand thoughts are running through Violet's mind as she snuggles against Tate's chest in the backseat, his arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. She thinks about how far they've come - a lifetime lived in teenagers bodies - and how far they can still go. They're forever. They're infinite, thanks the house that's both a blessing and a curse.

"Tate?" she murmurs, lifting her head to look at him.

He kisses her softly. "Yeah?"

"Happy Halloween."

He grins and pulls her closer. "Happy Halloween, Violet."

* * *

**A/N: **And happy birthday to you, Salmon!


End file.
